Observe Participate
by humanveil
Summary: No amount of guilt could tear Will's eyes away. Hannidelia, Hannigram, Hannibal/Will/Bedelia. Warnings: pegging and voyeurism.
**this really has no plot. i have no idea when or where it's supposed to be set, but here! like the bio says: it involved pegging and voyeurism.**

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He shouldn't be there.

He shouldn't be standing where he is, shouldn't be watching, and he _definitely_ shouldn't be turned on. He knows everything about the situation is wrong, and horrible, and immoral, and—

A loud, low groan leaves Hannibal's mouth, and Will has to bite down on his lip to stay quiet.

It's a surprise he hasn't already been heard. He thinks he should have been; thinks the pounding of his heart is far too loud for Hannibal to _not_ hear. The other man hasn't looked in the direction of the door, though, so he mustn't know that Will's there. Or if he does, he mustn't care.

Will thinks he _has_ to care. He thinks he would, if their roles were reversed and Hannibal was the one staring, watching him as he pleasured himself. It seems like something he should care about.

He _shouldn't_ be there.

And yet, he can't turn away, can't bring himself to tear his eyes away. Will can do barely anything but stare through the tiniest of gaps, eyes wide, mouth parted in awe while he watches this man, this _beautiful_ man, work on himself.

He's thankful the door is only slightly ajar, because otherwise Hannibal would be able to see him. He doesn't know what he would do if that happened, doesn't quite know how to explain his presence in the other man's home, let alone in the doorway of his bedroom.

The room is illuminated only by firelight, but it's enough for Will to make out Hannibal's figure, laid out on the bed, legs spread with one hand wrapped around his cock, and the other resting at his entrance, moving in a steady rhythm.

His eyes are glued to Hannibal's body, to the man's hands. He notices how familiar each movement is, how practiced, and he can't help but wonder how many times Hannibal has done this, if he's ever thought about _him_ while doing it. Will hopes he has.

He's impossibly hard, his entire body vibrating with pleasure, his arousal growing with each gasp and moan that comes from Hannibal. Will hardly notices his own hands moving to the fly of his pants, his right hand slipping under the two layers of fabric while his left keeps him steady. The first touch of his fingertips against his cock sends shivers down his spine, and he has to bite down on his lip again to keep quiet.

Hannibal only moans louder.

The angle isn't the best, but it's enough for Will. He works his hand up and down his shaft, droplets of precome easing the way. Each movement is accompanied by a burning sense of guilt and shame, but Will finds the taboo nature of their activities only adds to the pleasure.

It's hard to focus on anything other than Hannibal, but the sound of a nonvisible door closing makes him still, breath coming to a stop as he waits. Will sees Hannibal look to where the sound came from, a pleased sigh leaving his lips at whoever is there.

It could be anyone, and _God_ , Will cannot believe he's still there, still watching, his body almost trembling with anticipation.

"Are you ready?"

His eyes widen at the voice, because _surely_ not. It couldn't possibly be—

Bedelia steps into his line of vision, and Will has to force back a choke at the sight of her. Of _all_ the people it could have been, she hadn't even crossed his mind. The hand on his cock has stilled, and he stares, wide eyed, as Bedelia moves towards the bed.

If he hadn't expected to see her there, then he _definitely_ hadn't expected to see the harness around her waist, the long, black dildo hanging from it.

"Yes," Hannibal answers, his hands moving from his body to rest against the bed sheets.

"Hands and knees," she says, voice commanding. Hannibal moves into the position quickly, his face pointing in the direction of the door, of Will.

Will holds his breath, his heart beating erratically, and watches as Bedelia climbs on the bed and settles between Hannibal's legs. Her hands rest on his hips, and Will can see blood red nails scratch the skin lightly, almost teasingly.

Bedelia enters him in one, slow push, and Will's hand finds its way back beneath his pants. No amount of guilt could make him look away, not now, not with the way Hannibal looks. The man's face has dropped forward, his mouth open and eyes shut as Bedelia sets a quick rhythm with her thrusts. Each movement of her hips elicits a sharp gasp from Hannibal, which goes straight to Will's cock, making him impossibly harder.

Will can't help but picture himself in Bedelia's position, and his hand quickens its movements with the thought. He bites his free hand to keep quiet as he strokes, thumb pressing into the head of his cock with every upward movement, and squeezing the base with every downward one.

He lets the noises that come from Hannibal wash over him, every moan and gasp making him feel as if his skin is on fire. He listens to the sound of Bedelia's skin moving against Hannibal's, and pretends he's the one there, slamming into the willing body.

He watches as Bedelia palms Hannibal's cock, watches as Hannibal's hands intertwine with the sheets, and listens to the moans get louder with each thrust. Will can already feel the beginning of his orgasm coil low in his stomach, and he bites on his fist, his shoulder resting heavily on the doorframe to keep himself up.

Hannibal looks up, eyes pointing in the general direction of the door, and the glint in his eyes is all it takes to push Will over the edge. Come spurts from his cock, covering his hand, and his eyes stay glued to Hannibal's body while the other man reaches his own climax, Bedelia fucking him through it.

Quickly, he tucks himself back in his pants, his hand wiping on the fabric of his underwear before redoing his fly. His legs are shaky due to his post-orgasmic glow, but the guilt hits full force, and he has an almost suffocating need to bolt. He looks to the bed, sees Bedelia removing the harness from around her waist, and thinks it would be a good chance to leave without being seen. He takes one step away from the door, but a voice makes him freeze.

"Will."

His eyes widen, and he stares back into the room with a growing horror, uncomprehending that he's just been caught. He doesn't respond, doesn't do anything but stare.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Hannibal asks, not unkindly. He sounds amused, almost, like the entire situation is a big joke.

"You may as well come in," Bedelia calls out to him, traces of mirth laced through her voice, as well.

Without thinking too much, Will walks back to the door and nudges it open fully. He doesn't cross the threshold into the actual room, but he stands underneath the frame, his body in plain sight of the two naked figures before him, now sitting calmly on the bed.

"How did you know?" he hears himself ask, voice strained. His eyes don't land on either of them for very long, his face heating with embarrassment.

"The same unfortunate aftershave, my darling boy."

Will stumbles for a reply, an excuse, _anything_ to explain it, but nothing comes out. Hannibal, for his part, just watches, his amused gaze flicking to Bedelia.

"You should ask to join, next time," he murmurs, pleased at the pink tone Will's face takes. He reaches a hand out, beckoning, and Will finds himself stepping forward, albeit tentatively. "Until then," he says, once Will stands in front of them. "I do believe Dr. Du Maurier requires _assistance_."


End file.
